“Even I,” replied the buffoon, solemnly. “Think’st thou that because I am weak in body, I cannot be strong in magic? I promise thee, on the faith of a madman, I will pin thee as fast as yon Paynim baron of old time, Seigneur Theseus, who was set so fast in the stocks in purgatory, that when the good knight, Sir Hercules, tore him away by main force, his legs were left behind. Sit thee down here, and mark what shall come to pass.”
The big man sat down, as bidden, on a low stone bench by the wall, and folded his huge arms with an air of defiance.
“Abracadabra!” shouted the jester, flourishing his hands within an inch of the soldier’s nose. “The spell is spoken: rise if thou canst!”
The giant, with a scornful laugh, attempted to do so; but just behind him projected from the wall a strong iron hook, which (as the crafty jester had foreseen) caught the upper edge of his steel backplate as he tried to rise, and held him down as firmly as if he were nailed to the spot!
Scared out of his wits by this strange and sudden bewitchment, the unlucky man roared like a bull, making the air ring with howls for help, fragments of half-forgotten prayers, broad Breton oaths, and vows to every saint whose name he could recollect. Meanwhile the other men (who saw at once the real cause of his strange paralysis) danced round him in ecstasy, and gave vent to roar after roar of such boisterous laughter as seemed to shake the very tower above them.
“Art thou convinced now, unhappy boaster?” said the buffoon, in a tone of condescending pity, calculated to drive the big spearman stark mad. “What ransom wilt thou pay to be freed?”
“I have but three silver groats,” gasped the victim; “take them, and free me.”
“So be it!” said Roland, with the air of a king pardoning a peasant; and, pocketing the money, he laid his hands on the giant’s shoulders, bent him down till he was freed from the hook, and said impressively, “Rise!”
The spell-bound man sprang up like a captive bursting from his dungeon, and turning hastily round, caught sight of the hook.
One glance at it, coupled with a fresh roar of laughter from his comrades, told him the whole story. With a howl like a speared wolf, he flew at the jester’s throat; but Roland, fully prepared, vanished ghost-like into the dark archway of the nearest door.